We have some considerable lists of Anglo-Saxon Botany. The vernacular names of plants, many of them, seem to indicate a Latin tradition dating from Roman times.[147] In the medical treatises we see the practice of medicine greatly mingled with superstition. Witchcraft is reckoned among the causes of disease, and formulæ are provided for breaking the spell. The “Leech Book” contains a series of prescriptions for divers ailments, with directions for preparation and medical treatment. One batch of these prescriptions is said to have been sent to King Alfred by Elias, Patriarch of Jerusalem. A very popular book was the Herbarium of Apuleius. It was translated into Anglo-Saxon, and four manuscripts of this translation are still extant.[148]
On astronomical and cosmical matters there exists a well-written little treatise of unknown authorship. It has been attributed to Ælfric, and it is most likely a work of his time. It seems to have been very popular.[149] It is, as it professes to be in the prologue, a popular abridgment of Beda, “De Natura Rerum.” It begins with a succinct abstract of the creation, the sixth day being thus rendered:—
| On ðam syxtan dæge he gescop eall deor cynn, ⁊ ealle nytena þe on feower fotum gað, ⁊ þa twegen menn Adam ⁊ Efan. | On the sixth day he created all animal-kind, and all the beasts that go on four feet, and the two men Adam and Eve. |
The eclipse of the moon is well explained. After saying that Night is the shade of the earth when the sun goes down under it, before it comes up the other side,—
| Woruldlice uðwitan sædon, {þæt} seo sceadu astihð up oð ðæt heo becymð to þære lyfte ufeweardan, and þonne be yrnð se mona hwiltidum þonne he full byð on ðære sceade ufeweardre, and faggeteð oððe mid ealle asweartað, for þam þe he næfð þære sunnan leoht þa hwile þe he þære sceade ord ofer yrnð oð ðæt þære sunnan leoman hine eft onlihton. | Worldly philosophers said, that the shadow mounts up until it arrives at the top of the atmosphere, and then sometimes the moon when he is full runs into the upper part of the shadow, and is darkened or utterly blackened, forasmuch as he hath not the sun’s light so long as he traverses the shadow’s point until that the sun’s rays again enlighten him. |
The Norman Conquest gave the death-blow to our old native literature, in the sense that the use of the literary Anglo-Saxon in its first integrity, as at once a learned language and a spoken language, did not extend beyond the generation that witnessed that great dynastic change. In this strict sense we might point to the close of the Worcester Chronicle in 1079 as the termination of Anglo-Saxon literature. There is, indeed, a Saxon Chronicle that was even begun after that date, one which comprises the whole Saxon period, and was continued by original writers down to 1154, but it is not written in normal Anglo-Saxon. It represents the flectional decay which the living and popular English was undergoing.
It exhibits, also, something of that new growth which was to compensate for the loss of flection. And it already bears marks of that French influence which was so largely to affect the whole complexion of the language. I quote from the last Annal in the Saxon Chronicle of Peterborough:—
| 1154. On þis gær wærd þe King Stephan ded and bebyried þer his wif and his sune wæron bebyried æt Faures feld, þet minstre hi makeden . Þa þe King was ded, þa was þe eorl beionde sæ . and ne durste nan man don oþer bute god for þe micel eie of him . Þa he to Engle land com . þa was he under fangen mid micel wurtscipe . and to king bletcæd in Lundene on þe Sunnen dæi be foren midwinter dæi . and held þær micel curt. | In this year was King Stephen dead and buried where his wife and his son were buried at Feversham, the minster he made. When the King was dead, then was the earl beyond sea, and no man durst do other than good for the great awe of him. When he came to England, then was he received with great worship, and consecrated king in London on the Sunday before Christmas Day; and he held there a great court. |
Here, then, at the very latest, we must close the canon of Anglo-Saxon literature. And here our subject branches in two; we have to follow with a brief glance what happened in two divergent lines of succession. As when, in the early mountainous course of some growing river, a broken hill has fallen across its bed, the old water-way is choked, and the descending waters make new channels to the right and to the left; so it was with the fortunes of our native language and literature after the Norman Conquest. The stream of largest volume was the spontaneous and popular utterance which amused in hall and taught in church; the lesser stream was the artificial maintenance of Anglo-Saxon literature which went on in the old seats of religion and learning.
The Norman Conquest brought in a vast body of romantic literature. Heroic or entertaining tales in a ballad form were at that time highly popular; and a peculiar talent for this sort of narrative was developed in France and among the Normans. The oldest French romances were those of which the central figure was Charles the Great. It was one of these, the “Song of Roland,” that animated the conquering Normans at Senlac. According to high authorities, it was in the next generation after the Conquest that the “Chanson de Roland” took that final epic form which now it bears, and probably the poet’s home was in England.[150] For a long time the speech of the upper society was wholly French. The two languages quickly met one another in the market, and in all the necessary business of life; but in respect of literature they long stood apart. Such was the state of things in this island during the time in which the Carling cycle prevailed. With that cycle the English language never came into contact at all in its palmy days; and the few Carling poems that exist in English are of later date, and are of a mixed nature. When at length, towards the close of the twelfth century, a literary intercourse had sprung up between the two languages, the hero of popular song was no longer Charles, but Arthur. In the English poetry of Layamon (1205), founded upon the French of Robert Wace, we see the story of Arthur in that early stage where it still purports to be history rather than romance. Layamon represents the first great step from the old literature to the new; and he is the first to give an English home to that ideal king who was to be the chosen theme of Spenser and of Tennyson. We will quote the death of Arthur and his funeral cortège:—